Blushing Cheeks Volume Two Page 11

  The laughing wife lost her panties and was utterly naked by the time she succumbed to the hairbrush. In the end, she straddled her husband’s lap to kiss him in hungry, teary gratitude while his hands dipped down to rub and soothe, even in places he hadn’t spanked.

  A lazy maid met her end across her mistresses lap for the cropping of her life and became more enthusiastic in her work. A bed report card ended in an over-the-lap walloping by a sternly mustached ‘daddy’, his hard right hand expressing a fury of displeasure that left handprints all over his ‘daughter’s’ tender sit-spot, and even Mindy felt significantly more studious by the end!

  She liked the schoolgirls. She liked the laughing, kissing wife with her liberally fondling husband. She even liked the maid, although that might have been more because of the revealing French maid’s uniform and the fact that her bosoms were a great deal plumper than Mindy ever thought hers could be.

  Wondering which ones the Snake Man might like the best, Mindy went back through both magazines, this time combing the pages for telltale wrinkles where fingers other than hers might have lingered. What she found was a dog-eared page in the very back of the second magazine where the personals’ section lay. There in black and white, was a five-line ad for someone right here in Willow’s Grove.

  For a moment, Mindy thought her heart stopped beating.

  It read:

  SWM seeks kindred spirit. Must be

  SF, DD inclined, ready for lifelong

  commitment to red-hot loving. No

  one night stands. Must like snakes.

  CW PO Box 161, W.G., NC 27607

  Her first instinct was to write a letter, which was crazy since he was (hopefully) coming to dinner tomorrow night. Her second instinct was to wonder was ‘DD inclined’ might mean. Dear Diary? Deep Devotion? Delightful Discipline? Heck, it could have meant Darkwing Duck for all she knew. She really had no idea.

  From somewhere downstairs, Nana thumped on the ceiling with the foot of her cane. “Are we having dinner at all tonight?”

  Mindy took her hand off her mouth long enough to call back, “Be right down!” Then she covered her mouth again. She really was trembling now. She also felt a little dazed.

  Gathering the magazines together, she briefly hugged them to her chest, her hands stroking and petting the back covers before she tucked them neatly under her pillow to look at later. She then went downstairs. She still didn’t know what ‘DD inclined’ might be, but she was also lost on what to fix for supper and she wasn’t thinking about tonight’s. All she did know was that she desperately, desperately wanted for everything to be as perfect as she could make it when Colton Waters came back tomorrow night.

  * * * * *

  Mindy jumped half out of her skin when she heard the crunch of tires rolling down the gravel driveway. He was here, he was here, he was here! Scrambling to get off the bed, she ran to her bedroom window and looked outside. But it wasn’t a school bus that she saw coming slowly towards the house. She raced from her bedroom anyway, pausing only long enough to shut Murphy’s bedroom door (friendly and personable to strangers he was not) and jogged quickly down the stairs.

  “Gracie’s here,” she told her grandmother in the living room. She grabbed Nana’s bingo bag and hustled it out the door, taking it right up to the car as it pulled to a gentle stop just shy of the porch.

  Having married and settled down some fifty years earlier, Nana’s best friend Gracie was now so short she could barely see over the top of the steering wheel without a booster seat. She didn’t get out of the car, but swiveled when Mindy opened up the rear passenger door and tossed the bingo bag onto the backseat. She grinned, her bright blue eyes practically owlish behind her Coke-bottle glasses. “You have a date!”

  Mindy smiled back, but she was in just too much of an excited hurry for chit-chat. “Drive safe and come home winners.”

  “You betcha!” Gracie grabbed her cow bell out of her own dauber bag and gave it several enthusiastic rings, crowing, “Bingo! Now pay up, buster!” She threw back her gray head, cackling uproariously.

  “Woo hoo! You tell ‘em, sister!” Mindy shut the door, leaving the cowbell tolling, and jogged back into the house to hustle Nana out the door.

  “What’s your hurry?” her grandmother groused, pushing her walker along at an even slower pace than normal. “Maybe I should meet him. Make sure he’s suitable.”

  “You already know who he is,” Mindy told her, and tried to hustle her faster. It might have been a trick of the wind, but she could have sworn she could hear another set of tires winding its way down the long driveway, still out of sight but coming closer by the second.

  “That doesn’t mean he’s suitable!”

  “Nana, please!”

  “I’m going, I’m going.” But she didn’t go gracefully or without pouting. She dropped grudgingly into the front seat, relinquishing her walker so Mindy could fold it up and stuff it into backseat alongside the dauber bag.

  “We want details when we get home,” Gracie grinned at her when Mindy ducked down to buss Nana’s weathered cheek with a farewell kiss.

  “Say it loud and say it proud,” Mindy bid them both, and closed the door on their warrior cries of: “Bingo!”

  She stood on the front porch waving until the car was out of sight, and then when the school bus did not magically appear after they had gone, dashed quickly back inside. She took the stairs rapidly back up to her bedroom. Looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror, she smoothed the skirt down, adjusted her breasts in the low cut neckline (it didn’t help them look any bigger, though) and tossed her long hair back over her shoulders. She didn’t look bad. A little Sandra Dee-ish. She wished she knew how to put her hair up in something other than a ponytail, so maybe she’d just leave it down tonight. But if he spanked her she might want it up and out of her face? No, no. Definitely leave it down.

  Maybe she should wear jeans.

  For the umpteenth time, she fingered the knee-length blue and white floral print sundress before deciding—for the umpteenth and one time—that she’d rather have her bottom accessible. Just in case he wanted to do something other than show up, snatch his magazines back out of her hands, whack her upside the head with one or both of them and then crossly leave again. Always a distinct possibility. Life wasn’t a fantasy photo spread, after all, and she had stolen his mail. He might actually be upset about that.

  Her fingers fidgeting, Mindy turned around to see how she looked from behind and then she resumed her position on the bed. On hands and knees, she glanced back over her shoulder in an effort to judge how cute and/or attractive her backside looked in a spankable position.

  Not bad.

  She was about to pull up her dress and double-check the panty selection when this time she really did hear the rumble of a bigger engine and gravel grinding under heavy tires. Mindy rolled over onto her hip and sat up, but that was as close to the window as she got. Her stomach was an instant tangle of knots; she couldn’t breathe. This really was quite pathetic, she told herself, already perched on the verge of either laughing or hyperventilating—she hadn’t yet decided which and he hadn’t even got out of the bus yet!

  Then she heard it: slow, crunching footsteps approaching the porch, then climbing—one, two, three steps—before crossing the weathered wood to the front door. She grabbed his magazines, hugging them to her chest like a shield, every nerve in her body so painfully on edge that when he knocked she could feel each rap echoing through her veins.

  She was going to have to go downstairs now and confess what she’d done. Either that, or sit here really, really quietly and hope he’d give up after a few knocks and go away.

  This was ridiculous.

  “Get your ass off this bed, go downstairs and knock his socks off!” she whisperingly scolded. But do it in a sweet, sultry and sexy way and not like a rhino in heat, which was what she was starting to feel like. Drawing a deep and stabilizing breath, she made herself put the magazines down.

/>   He knocked again.

  “Coming!” She could hear the strain in her voice, but managed to make her way downstairs without throwing up. That was always a plus.

  When she reached the front door, she paused again, looking at the shadow of him through the curtain-covered window and pressing her hands over her stomach in a vain attempt to still the nervous butterflies. Drawing another steadying breath, she took hold of the doorknob and swung it open.

  His eyes were hooded and he wasn’t smiling. That was the first thing she noticed. He wasn’t frowning, per say; he just wasn’t smiling. He didn’t say ‘Hi’, either. He just angled his head and, as if unable to believe he was asking, said, “Do you…have something of mine?”

  Mindy had spent all day practicing how she was going to answer that question. And to be honest, she’d actually started practicing the night before, curled up on her pillow, flipping slowly through both magazines again, trying to commit every detail in each of the scenarios to memory. Now, confronted at last with that character-building, come-clean, learn-and-grow-from-your-mistakes moment, her brain went completely blank.

  “I haven’t exactly figured out how to answer that yet,” she hedged, her fingers twiddling in the folds of her skirt.

  He stared at her. His eyebrows quirked and a corner of his mouth started to tick upward, but then she blinked and there he was again, just looking at her, hooded and reserved. Finally, he asked, “May I have them back?”

  “I haven’t figured out how to answer that one yet, either.”

  His eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

  As she picked at the edge of the door, she caught quick shy glances at him from out beneath her bangs. “I really like them. Maybe you’d consider letting me buy them from you…maybe…when you’re done looking at them?”

  That corner of his mouth twitched again, coming perilously close to a real smile as he reached out to catch hold the door. As if expecting her to suddenly change her mind at any second, he took two slow steps into the house. He turned around to close the door, and then stood there, staring at it for several minutes while his long fingers tapped lightly at the wood and he wrestled himself into some silent decision.

  Mindy took a step back when, suddenly seeming to make one, he looked at her again.

  “How’s your leg?” he abruptly asked.

  She actually looked down at the one in question, the long scratches still very visible around her ankle and up her shin. They were bright red, ragged lines that looked far worse than they really felt. “Not bad. Stings a little, but it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

  Very evenly, he asked, “Would you like something to?”

  Her knees actually went weak. This wasn’t a fantasy photo-spread, she had to remind herself again, and yet all of a sudden everything had taken on a distinctly surreal focus. How did one even answer a question like that? “Yes, please.”

  His hands came to rest on his hips, and she looked at them. They looked like very capable hands: big square palms, long and thick fingers. The butterflies in her belly had doubled in number, but they weren’t just in her belly any more. They had moved down to her bottom where all she could feel was this half-dreadful, half-excited crawling sensation just underneath the skin.

  One quick jerk of his head gestured for her to start walking. “Go get the magazines.”

  Fingers twitching and twisting in the folds of her skirt, Mindy turned and headed for her bedroom. She was halfway up the stairs before she realized he didn’t intend to wait patiently at the front door for her return; he was following her up to her room. Still several steps behind her, that put his eyes right about butt-level to her, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, she was pretty sure that’s exactly where he was looking. At her butt.

  She should have worn jeans. He’d have got a better view.

  Her hands were sweating. She rubbed them against her thighs, leading him straight up to her bedroom without a word. The magazines were under her pillow where Nana wouldn’t accidentally see them should she glance in from the doorway. As Mindy pulled them out into the open, she would have handed them straight over to their rightful owner, except that Colton stopped her.

  “Put them on the bed. All but that last one. Hand that one to me.”

  Mindy shuffled through the short stack, placing the two by now very well-read magazines on the neatly-made comforter and handing back the one package that she hadn’t had the nerve to open. It was, after all, addressed to Colton Waters.

  “This,” he said, holding it up by its protective-wrapped plastic, “is the only reason why you’ll be able to sit down tonight for dinner.”

  The most delicious thrill shivered through her. He looked so self-confident and stern and…and authoritative. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and then again when he pointed to the edge of the mattress and said, “Bend over and put your hands flat on the bed.”

  Life might not be a fantasy photo-spread, but it was doing a really good impersonation of one right now. Her stomach tangling and tightening, her bottom crawling and tingling, Mindy bent over and braced her slender weight upon slightly spread arms.

  Colton lay the two magazines directly between her hands where she couldn’t help but look at them. “Open it to the scene you liked the best.”

  She hardly had to think about it. It was the first of the two magazines that she’d looked at, and she had no trouble finding the two giggling schoolgirls with their stern Teacher standing over them. After glancing at the open page, he moved around to her left side and Mindy jumped a little when his arm came across her back. His hand settling lightly against the far side of her waist, he tucked her up against his side to steady her. She needed it. Her knees felt very wobbly.

  “Were those your books to take?” he asked.

  Mindy shook her head. Her arms were trembling now too, and although it had nothing to do with the meager strain of being bent over, it did have everything to do with the position she was in.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  “No,” she squeaked.

  “No, what?”

  “No, sir,” she promptly corrected herself. One didn’t actually have to have spanking experience to know that was the right response.

  “No, sir, they were not,” he agreed. And then he just did it. The flat of his hand smacked down upon the left side of her bottom, jolting her up and over the bed. Had it not been for his steadying hold around her waist, she was so shaken that she’d have fallen sprawling across her own bed in a totally graceless and humiliated heap. As it was, Mindy quickly recovered her balance, sucking at one startled breath after another, her eyes widening at the surprise that reality had given her.

  That sharp, single spank hadn’t hurt. Not really. But the potential for pain was there in the muted sting that the barrier of her clothes helped to absorb, albeit only partially.

  Giving her a moment to recover herself, Colton then asked, “Did you ask if you could borrow them?”

  Mindy started to shake her head, but then caught herself. “N-no, sir.”

  She gasped outright, stiffening as two sharp smacks bounced off her rounded bottom, first the right side and then the left. The barrier of her clothes were feeling a little thinner now, particularly over her left buttock. She clenched them, trying to hold in the sting which was already beginning to fade. Her bottom shimmied, but then she quickly caught herself and locked her knees.

  His hand came to rest on the fullest part of her now stinging left bottom check. “What do you think should happen to young ladies who take things that do not belong to them and without asking?”

  “They sh-should g-get, um…” the word stuck in the back of her throat, “...m-maybe spanked…maybe just a little bit?”

  Apparently, Colton agreed with everything but the ‘little bit’ part, because he spanked her then and it was not ‘just a little bit.’ He by no means used the full strength of his arm. He didn’t have to. Swift slaps peppered all over her bottom, catching both side
s equally, high and low, side to side, sparking heat and insinuating that delicious sting everyplace destined to touch a chair if she tried to sit later on.

  Mindy’s jaw dropped. Her brow puckering as she struggled to hold herself still, to absorb his spanks and absorb the sensation, to simply feel as the sting became a glowing, overwhelming warmth. He was a really good spanker.

  Admittedly, her first-hand experience at being able to judge a Really Good Spanker when she encountered him was limited to this one experience. But she did know that Really Good Spankers were supposed to make it impossible for a girl to hold still shortly after discipline ensued and within just a handful of slaps Colton accomplished that. Mindy lost the fight to hold still. Despite all her best efforts, she began to move in tandem with the steady rise and fall of his hand, sometimes arching back to meet the flat of his palm and sometimes cringing in as if to get away from it. Her gasps became whimpers, her whimpers became squeaks. And right as the fury of that growing sting perched on the cusp of becoming real pain—not the hot and glowing kind, but the sort that was just a smack or two away from not being fun to take anymore—the spanking abruptly stopped.

  Her arms weakened, with relief or disappointed she didn’t know, but she sagged down to press her face into the blankets and momentarily rested there. She barely realized his hand had begun to rub gentle figure-8s into her warm and throbbing bottom. At least, not until he stopped and patted the side of her hip. “Back into position.”

  With shaky breaths, Mindy rose up onto her arms and locked her knees once more. She stared down at the magazine between her hands until he bent to close it, tossing it a short distance away and leaving the second one in its place.